Empress Account, Volume I
by WithoutAnyHope
Summary: Here you will discover the exact words of Empress Cyla, entailing her early life here in Skyrim, including entries from her journal detailing personal experience in love, life and dragons.


_When the Empress Cyla disappeared on one icy evening, the silence fell over Skyrim. Helplessly, the people of her rule watched as her tiny figure rode the grand ash blonde dragon into the sky and right through the clouds to heaven, and stood watching until the sun had long set. The Empress took death by the hand and followed where it took her, knowing that her time with us here had ended. We will never know, now that the years of her lives are but memories just who the Empress truly was. But will we? _

_Years of research and recovery have led us to believe that the Empress wrote several hundred parchments about the early years of her lives as a run away child from Cyrodiil. After translation from a near ancient tongue, we give the public Empress Account, a series of entries from the Empress's own journal. Each chapter we will release will consist of one entry about what life was like for her back in the early days of her life in Skyrim, an entry about her thoughts of being the Dragonborn, and an entry about the personal encounters she has with her own feelings. _

_The entries put here in this book will not be in any accurate order because we do not have enough resources to figure out when each encounter occurred, so it is your job as a reader of Empress Account to make your own assumptions on the Empress's storyline. We have tried our best though. Please enjoy the stories of this strong, bold figure in Skyrim's history, written in her own words. _

_**A Day in Skyrim**_

It's become almost like a talent, if I may allow myself to call it that. That feeling I get in my hands and my fingers when I twist them and hear that precious 'click'. The greatest thrill of house-breaking is never knowing who or what is waiting for you on the other side. I have been so lucky as to not have been caught by the guards yet, but I have gotten the lip from quite a few residents. It mostly happened when I had first started going into peoples houses to look for supplies, because it was nothing I had ever done before. A few months ago, I'd never have dreamed of myself running through Skyrim like a thief, but here I am, and I am doing what is necessary to survive.

I started going by breaking into houses of small farms, when I knew nobody would be around and it would take a longer time for the owners to summon the guards if it came to it. After the first break, with a clean getaway and a satchel full of supplies to tied me over for the next few days, I started to crave it again. I got myself into more difficult places, weaving in and out of houses in a small town, taking small things no one would miss, and being out of there by sunrise, long before anyone realized they were missing anything. I started to get more careless, and have noticed flaws in my ways of thieving. Occasionally I will nudge a basket, but don't fix it, or I would not shut the pantry door all the way. It may sound like I worry, but the smallest detail can set a person off. Upon realizing my mistakes, I started to improve my technique. It has gotten to the point that I can take a key off a persons body without their noticing, run to their home and open it, taking whatever I need and returning the key back to them before they have finished their shopping at the market!

It's a dangerous hobby of mine, and I know I'll have to stop eventually, but for now it's what's keeping me alive. I'll have to pace myself better, or this could end up becoming an obsession that could get me killed.

_**Dragons and The Dragon Born**_

I still see vivid images of the massive leathery beast making its descent upon the village.

Its sharp talons hooked themselves onto the tall stone building in front of me and howled loudly before the flames escaped it's heavy lips. The flames. They were so bright; I had to close my eyes as to not be blinded. It scorched the skin of everyone below and we all watched helplessly as the flames ceased and almost... retreated back into the beast's mouth.

Panic arose from the buildings. There was no telling who would be subject to its fiery hail next, and the main priority became _escape_.

My heart pounded as I attempted to make retreat to a building. There were tortured shouts coming from all around me, but I could never match a voice to a body; everything seemed to blend into one.

There were so many innocent people in that village, and children as well.

Other than one Stormcloak and I, there were no survivors that I heard of. The dragon purged the village with its fiery poison, and I was lucky enough to get out.

I woke up this morning in a sheen of sweat and had the urge to vomit across my bedroll. The black, leathery beast still haunts me. It's image, it's screeching, the fire so bright I woke up feeling as though it was raining down on me.

I can only pray that it doesn't happen again, or I fear I will never recover from this constant nightmare-ish hell. Unfortunately, I suppose I never will recover; one does not simply forget a meeting like this.

_**A Personal Account**_

As the days increase, I start to worry more about him. I find myself doing those silly things to make sure he's still there following me, so that I don't have to embarrass myself and glance back at him. Sometimes I'd summon fire to my fingers just so that I could hear the slick, metallic noise of him unsheathing his own weapon, and I would be reassured once again. After an attack, I'd wait quietly, and impatiently to see his built frame appear over the hillside and I'd feel partially relieved again when I truly came face to face with his long blonde hair that I fought the urge to touch, and his rich blue eyes that always made me melt inside. I can recall a time when we were defending our camp from a small group of bandits and he had chased one of them into the woods. After I had finished killing the last of the group, a frightfully tall man with a hard swing but far too slow reactions, I waited beside the black-clad corpses; just waited. No noises met my ears. Nothing. I longed to here the uneven footsteps I was so used to hearing from behind me approach from out of the dark forest. I waited anxiously by myself, straining out the other distracting noises of the night and never let my eyes wander away from the trees that he had entered.

I tell myself to stop worrying so much and that he could take care of himself. Hell, he could take care of me as well, and had saved me on many occasions. It could be for the fact that I had just suffered the death of my other beloved companion. Ever since the death of Vigilance, I try to keep Sven closer to me, at all times, but sometimes I fear that my attempts only push him away further. I can tell that he knows I hurt inside, and everyday I work towards being used to it just being the two of us, but my fear of it being only me increases.

I don't know how much longer I can make him suffer because of my own worries and wants. I don't want to burden him any more than I already have.

I forget sometimes, most of the time, that he offered to help _me_ and come with _me_, but I wonder why, and for what. He doesn't gain anything from doing this with me, and I should have released him a long time ago.

But I can't imagine myself without him anymore.


End file.
